


I Won't Say I'm...

by spelling_error



Series: I Won't Say I'm In Love [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpha Tony Stark, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Bottom Steve Rogers, Drunk Sex, M/M, Not Beta Read, Not Canon Compliant, Omega Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Top Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:54:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25374220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spelling_error/pseuds/spelling_error
Summary: ... Steve has the distinct memory of having the thought: what’s the point of this alpha body if he doesn’t use it?When the dust and magical pale-yellow light has settled, Steve feels sick with the irony....Part two of the series I Won't Say I'm In Love but could be sort of read on it's own. I suggest reading both parts for the full story though!
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: I Won't Say I'm In Love [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1837513
Comments: 6
Kudos: 73





	I Won't Say I'm...

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know! It's not a happy ending, not a tragic ending. Kind of in between!

Steve spends too long in the shower.

It isn’t new. He’s spent forty minutes scrubbing himself clean of Tony before. It is not the first time, but this time he has bruises that don’t wash away and he thinks that maybe this time it’s worse.

It starts like this…

Starts with meeting Alpha Tony Stark.

Starts with meeting _Tony._

Tony Stark was an over-confident, egotistical, and stereotypical Alpha. When Steve Rogers first met him, the first alpha he had met in the twenty-first century, his scent alone was enough to tip Steve off that Tony was going to be an absolute nightmare to deal with.

Steve was an alpha himself. Technically. Sort of. In a way.

He looked like an alpha, he acted like an alpha, and he almost smelled like one too, unless you had the heightened senses of an alpha or omega.

Unless you were Tony Stark.

So, Steve had known that he and Tony were going to butt heads a little.

Two alphas on the same team? Not ideal. After all, that had been why Tony Stark was not recommended for the Avengers; because Captain America was a better leader, Iron Man an invaluable asset, but two alphas that close together was just unheard of.

Still, there was an alien invasion. They could work together fine.

They did, actually.

They worked together really, really well.

Especially when Steve forgot about being an alpha from time to time.

 _Tony_ had never forgotten to be an alpha, though.

That was really what they fought about most often. Steve would forget himself, and he blamed it all on Tony and his goddamn scent, and his posture, and his entitled tone, and his knowing smirk, and his controlling yet calming attitude.

Tony never forgot to be an alpha, but _Steve did_.

Because Steve hadn’t always been an alpha.

Of course, everyone knew that the serum changed Steve’s designation. It was just always presumed that it changed from beta, like the majority of the population, to alpha.

It hadn’t.

Not that anyone was ever supposed to know that.

He had lied about more than just his address on his enlistment papers.

The only one who had known that was Erskine and Steve himself.

Steve’s original designation was rare. Very, very rare. Zero-point-five percent, rare. To be fair, Alpha’s were just as rare, sitting around two percent in the modern world.

Which is why Steve had been able to get away with not being the perfect alpha. Not like Tony was.

He had gotten away with it in front of everyone. Anyone.

Even Natasha bought the alpha shtick.

It was amazing what a dazzlingly strong body could get people to over-look.

It was amazing how even standing Tony and Steve side by side, no one had noticed the differences.

Tell Tony what to do, and he’ll fight you every step of the way. He was a civilian.

Tell Steve what to do, and he’ll fall right in line. He was a solider.

Tony looks out for himself and those close to him. A very short list. He was selfish.

Steve looks out for everyone. Bringing home strangers from the park. He was selfless.

Get Tony in a room full of new and powerful people, he stands at the highest point and mocks the leader. He was over-compensating.

Get Steve in that same room, he sits down and makes himself smaller. He was respectful.

It would have been hilarious if it hadn’t also been so frustrating. He had almost wanted to tell the team, but he was afraid—it wasn’t like those with his prior designation were the most respected people in the world, even now. Society was filled with stigma and stereotypes that could call Steve’s command into question.

So, he kept it to himself, and tried not to hate Tony for being everything Steve was not.

Steve never hated his prior designation, exactly. He had hated getting sick and being considered a commodity, yes, but never did feel wrong in his body.

He never felt wrong in his alpha body either.

Just… _sometimes_ he had.

He wasn’t an idiot. He knew that once a month he spent a week being irritable and snappy and avoiding mirrors because his body still thought he should be doing that very specific _thing_ even though _he couldn’t_.

He had known there was a pattern since he got the serum. It had been fine. He hadn’t regretted his decision to have his designation changed. Not really. It was all in his head, the feeling he had gotten of being weaker than normal, getting overwhelmed by scents, wanting to be alone and in some small, dark place that was ten degrees hotter than the air outside. All in his head.

All in his head when he caught his reflection and flinched away, too.

He hadn’t hated his reflection when he wasn’t going through that _thing_ , so it was fine.

He had been fine.

The irritability and getting overwhelmed by scent had normally been fine too. It was never a problem until the Avengers had started living together.

It had taken Natasha two months to notice Steve spent a lot of time alone for a few days every month. She, and everyone else, came to the very wrong conclusion that Steve had probably experienced alpha ruts more often than average and that was why he always got so snappish.

Everyone but Tony, he should say.

_What’s got you all growly?_

_Tony, don’t. Leave him alone._

_I don’t think I will._

And he hadn’t. Tony never does what he’s told. Not unless he wants to, Steve finds later.

Tony had instead snapped back at Steve, harsh enough to make him flinch. Told him to go to the gym, work off whatever was wrong and stay the hell away from the team if he was going to be so grumpy.

Steve had tried to feel the anger he usually would have when he found himself following orders from another alpha, but he had not managed in the least.

He had felt anger at himself for not being a real alpha.

He had felt anger at himself for not being a real omega.

He had felt anger at himself for not being a real beta.

He had felt anger at himself for wanting to be a real alpha even though being an omega was a gift, his mother said.

He had felt anger at himself for wanting to be a real omega even though being an alpha was a gift, the whole world said.

He had felt anger at himself for not wanting to be a beta at all.

He could always smell Tony before he could hear him approach, and that somehow had felt amplified that day.

Somehow felt amplified all the weeks of the month that were not the majority.

But Steve was still an Alpha.

They were _both_ alpha’s and it would have never worked out. He knew this, but there was just nothing to be done about his heart.

He had never let his feelings for Tony get in the way of his responsibility to the Avengers though. Their jobs were far more important than Steve’s feelings for his teammate.

Steve never let the way he wanted to roll over and _submit_ to Tony get in the way of a battle, of giving orders, of being a leader.

Until he did.

He rolled over and submitted to Tony like he was not an Alpha at all. Let Tony’s body draw things and words and sounds from Steve that he should never have been able to give up for another Alpha.

He let it get in the way of a battle, of giving orders, of being a leader, but that all came later.

Steve was not a coward. He had never been a coward. When it came to Tony though? Steve starts getting into the habit.

It’s not the first time Steve’s wasted all the hot water in the shower trying to drown his mistakes. He’s sure it won’t be the last.

_Let’s not talk about it, yeah?_

_Great idea._

And they don’t.

So that is where it started. It’s not where it ended though.

No, because they do it all over again…

They do it all over again but at least it’s not because Steve forgot himself the second time.

It goes on like this…

Goes on when Steve over-compensates…

…and over-compensates…

…and over-compensates.

Tony had no need to antagonize Steve anymore. The very act of existing was enough to set Steve off.

When Tony followed orders without fighting him, Steve saw it as pity. When Tony fought him, questioned him, or ignored him, Steve saw it as a challenge.

The worst thing was that Steve knew it was nothing but the alpha hormones. He knew this defensive-offensive game wasn’t really who Steve was, he knew it was all the Alpha in him and he really started to hate it.

He hadn’t really known what to do about that. He had never hated his Alpha status before then. Found parts of it to be frustrating, yes, but never minded it as much as he did then.

He wasn’t really sure what it meant that he had started to hate it.

He supposed it probably meant he was in love with Tony.

Having thought about it, he was reasonably sure that is exactly what it was.

Because what was stopping them from being together? Steve’s alpha aggression.

But it wasn’t as if Steve could have reversed his designation, even if he had wanted to.

He was Captain America.

He had a duty to the world. He may have been half in love with Tony Stark, but he couldn’t just stop being Captain America and return to life as the sickly little Steve Rogers.

Impossible.

He wouldn’t have done it if he could.

At least, that’s what he had believed then in that reality.

Steve couldn’t get a hold of himself. Couldn’t get himself in check.

Not until Fury pulls him and Nat to DC.

Away from Avengers Tower.

Away from Tony.

Without the need to over-compensate.

This at least, gave way to the growing of Steve’s friendship with Natasha into a kind of companionship that had felt bittersweet to Steve.

Alpha’s were not known for being social creatures, but without Tony around, Steve had found he was less worried about being caught in a lie and he built his friendship with Natasha into something resembling a _pack_.

The only pack that Steve ever had was Bucky.

That was the part that made his blossoming friendship with Nat so painful.

Even more painful was meeting Sam and feeling that bond with him too. It was a bond that Steve the Alpha could not make of course, and he used that as a comfort when he saw Bucky standing on that bridge and not knowing who he was.

Feeling companionship with Nat and Sam was one thing, but Steve as an alpha was incapable of forming a pack of his own and thus the memory of the pack he once had with Bucky remained honoured in Steve’s mind.

That’s what he told himself at least, when the dust had settled and Steve brought Sam back to Avengers tower to meet the rest of the team.

To meet Tony.

Without Bucky.

Steve had known that Tony knew what Bucky was to Steve.

No alpha, no beta, and no omega with Steve’s skill would have let the Winter Soldier inflict the damage that Steve allowed unless it was pack. Steve may not have had Bucky’s teeth marks embedded in his shoulder at the time, but he was still Steve’s pack.

Tony had done the proper alpha thing and kept his nose out of Steve’s business when Nat sent news of the Winter Soldier’s identity to the rest of the team. Whether that was because Steve and Tony were at odds, or because of the implications of an alpha coming to help save Steve’s beta, it was hard for Steve to have said.

But it had been obvious to anyone familiar with true pack dynamics what Bucky had been to Steve. What Sam and Nat were becoming to Steve even though he was an Alpha and he shouldn’t have been able to form these kinds of connections on his own.

Steve kept waiting for Tony to say it. To drop a hint to the rest of the team. For Natasha to finally see it.

He never did. Steve thinks that may have just made it worse somehow.

Especially with the way Tony avoided Natasha and Sam. It had all seemed too pointed a gesture.

It had driven Steve crazy because they were _not his pack_ and Tony had been treating them as if they were.

Steve was an alpha, thus he was incapable of making his own pack. Packs were inherited by alphas from their omega mate. That was why alphas were anti-social and omegas were friendly.

Steve was an alpha, and he had no pack.

Tony still continued to treat Sam and Nat like they belonged to Steve and getting too close might have meant something.

So, Steve over-compensated. Wondered how long it would take before Tony broke down and called him on it.

In the end though, Steve breaks down and admits it himself. He wishes he could say it wasn’t because he was being a coward anymore, but it was rather the opposite.

SHIELD or no SHIELD, the Avengers are still earth’s mightiest heroes, and as they had come to find, that title included fighting off the otherworldly ex-girlfriends of their team members.

It would have been funny. Steve thought maybe one day it will be.

Something to tell the grandchildren.

Steve has the distinct memory of having the thought: what’s the point of this alpha body if he doesn’t use it?

_My decisions in the field are not for you to question!_

_They are when your decisions are suicidal ways to over-compensate for your own god damn problems!_

_…Problems?_

_Wait, no, that’s not what I meant…_

When the dust and magical pale-yellow light has settled, Steve feels sick with the irony.

Steve had woken up groggy and in medical thinking about how much he had begun to hate that smell when he had noticed it wasn’t the only thing he was smelling.

When he noticed that Sam and Nat were in the room and he could identify their anxiety without having opened his eyes.

When he noticed there was far more room in the hospital bed than he was used to.

_You’ve been uh… De-serumed._

_Well, shit. I hate desk duty._

The weight of the situation comes down gently, pressing, pressing until it’s crushing him snuggly in his chest.

He didn’t have the serum.

He wasn’t an alpha anymore.

He could feel it when he stood. The way his body had changed. He was not only smaller, but he could feel all the equipment that comes with having a duel reproductive system and he cringed at the wave of vertigo that was swiftly followed by déjà vu.

He has a momentary spike of fear, of panic, when he feels the weakness in his arms and legs, when he has to squint to make out the people in the room. Recalls being sick and weak and _worthless_.

He took a breath, felt air reach deep in his lungs, air that was filled with concern and confusion and fear from Nat and Sam.

It brings the burning in his shoulder to the very forefront of his brain and Steve couldn’t have ignored it, couldn’t have stopped the agony and suffering from flooding through his pack bond even if he had wanted to. He doesn’t want to stop it though.

It’s Bucky.

It’s Bucky’s suffering that Steve is feeling.

That Steve hadn’t been able to prevent.

_I need a drink. I haven’t gotten drunk since 1941._

_You’ve come to the right place._

Tony’s penthouse reeks of him. His scent floods Steve’s body and soothes the horrible pain and guilt for only as long as Steve could let it. He thinks if he wanted it to, Tony’s scent could soothe Steve for a lifetime.

It’s the only scent he’s come across that hasn’t smelt rancid with anxiety.

He’s the only one who doesn’t look at all surprised by Steve’s size, or his appearance in his home.

Everyone else had given Steve a judgmental look when he disclosed his destination.

Steve had always been able to smell Tony—and it’s a warm scent, a good scent. He’s never picked up on the more subtle changes though, only the dramatic ones like anger, rut, fear, and pain.

Now, Steve can tell the way his coffee scent smells just a little bit bitter with sorrow. Bittersweet, actually.

It’s fitting, Steve thought.

So much has been bittersweet lately.

Nat.

Sam.

Tony.

Bucky.

All such good things. All such stabbing, painful things.

Steve moved around Tony’s space. It felt strange to look up at him. It felt good.

Steve took the offered drink.

Moved to sit on the counter top because he couldn’t keep looking up at Tony or he might never have left.

In retrospect, none of his next actions made him feel much like leaving anyway.

Still, he clung to the normalcy of being taller for a while.

Until one drink is three, and Tony’s three drinks are six and Steve’s not feeling much of anything from Bucky because he’s drunk and Tony’s drunk and beautiful.

Drunk, beautiful, and staring at Steve.

At every move he makes.

Tony’s scent was consistently enveloping his senses with its warm, rich and bitter aroma. It goes to Steve’s head.

He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting when he showed up.

He knows what he’s expecting when buttons are undone and eyes are left lingering, but that’s too many drinks in and Steve can’t say what his original plan had been with any certainty.

He thinks it may have been exactly what happened though.

Steve had never shown off Bucky’s bond mark for an alpha before then. Hadn’t ever cared to subject himself to the embarrassment of trying to seem appealing when he new damn well he wasn’t.

But god, the way Tony was looking at Steve that night… Steve would have believed anything that man said.

Tony’s eyes over the mark seemed to sooth just the same as his scent did. Steve wanted to know what Tony’s mouth would feel like there.

Wanted to know what Tony’s mouth would feel like everywhere.

Steve wanted so much.

And Tony gave, and gave, and gave.

And Steve… Steve took everything he could, basked in it in a way he knew he couldn’t bask in the morning afterglow.

He never could.

_When do you leave?_

Steve could never abandon his pack.

Not like he could abandon Captain America.

He would never have thought to give up the mantle. Not for himself. Not for Tony.

But for Bucky… That was pack. That was family.

Tony was just… Tony was…

Tony was everywhere.

He was on Steve’s skin.

In his skin.

In him.

On his lips.

On his tongue.

Between his teeth.

Between his thighs.

Tony was everywhere.

His scent sinking deep into Steve’s very soul. It was no wonder he couldn’t wash him away.

Steve felt… _Steve feels_ like he can barely breathe for how Tony’s scent, dark, rich, warm, had begun the slow deadly process of replacing blood and oxygen in his body.

That night he wanted to suffocate in it.

He thinks maybe he did, just a little.

There is a bitterness in Tony’s scent that rises and falls like waves across Steve’s senses.

It smells the way Tony feels.

Harsh and sharp, restless.

Steve wanted to kiss it away but found it impossible.

Found there were things that Steve could not help, could not calm. Could not fix.

Found there were a lot of things that Steve was helpless to do anything about.

Guilt and worthlessness likely bittered Steve’s scent the same way sorrow did Tony’s.

Steve gave in to helplessness that night though. Gave in and let Tony turn that awful feeling into pleasure.

It felt surreal. Except that it didn’t.

Everything had felt like a dream up until the moment Tony’s eyes land on that spot on Steve’s shoulder and suddenly reality warps and changes and bends to accommodate this new world he finds himself in with Tony.

Reality changed to allow Tony above him.

Reality changed to allow Tony’s lips on his.

Reality changed to allow Tony inside him.

Reality had changed to something good. To something beautiful. To something Steve could never experience without Tony.

Would never experience again.

Steve allowed himself to suffocate in the new and beautiful reality he created with Tony for hours and hours.

Tony above him, hard and heated and restless and urgent and sure all at once.

He felt beautiful somehow when Tony was inside him. Felt like Tony’s beauty had reached inside of him the same way Tony was with his tongue and fingers and cock.

Like Tony left a piece of himself inside Steve that Steve could never scrub from his body.

A piece that would never fade.

Not like Tony’s fingerprints on his hips would.

Reality changed to allow Steve access to Tony’s body too.

Tony’s skin was dark and beautiful and burning hot in the city lights coming in through the windows. Not like Steve who feels like he’s freezing in the moonlight whenever they are not pressed together.

Steve see’s all the pain and all the history that Tony carries around written out in front of him in silvery white scars that are _everywhere_.

In another reality Steve had believed the worst of the damage had come from years working with his hands.

When Steve feels those work-hardened fingertips on his skin though, he finds the hardness there is the softest of all the pain Tony carries.

He leaves softer pain on Tony’s skin, feels the scars that he carries under his teeth.

Can’t help but try and sooth the bitter hurt.

Even though there is no reality where Steve is as gentle as he is supposed to be.

But Tony handles Steve beautifully in this reality.

Holds Steve still with his own restlessness.

Warmed Steve with his own heat.

Fills Steve with his own beauty.

Covers Steve in his own bitter rich scent.

Steve’s not strategic then. There’s nothing to win. He thinks he may have won already.

When Tony first kissed him.

Months ago in his other wrong body.

When it started.

If he can be sure that’s where it started.

Beginnings, middles, ends—Steve starts to lose it all like he loses the beginnings and ends of his and Tony’s bodies. Of their separation. Of their togetherness.

Steve had slipped into another reality when he had slipped into Tony’s lap. When his shirt had slipped from his shoulders.

They made it beautiful together when Tony’s lips had pressed to his. When Tony’s body had slipped into his.

It was painful and hard and heated and gentle and agonizingly bittersweet.

Bittersweet like hearing beautiful words that only belonged in this reality and knowing that it was ending.

Ending with Steve’s beginning. Ending where Steve wanted to start again and again and again.

The word felt severe.

It transcends the reality they are in and cuts sharp and sweet against everything Steve was.

_“Omega”._

Was that where it ended? Or is that where it began?

Reality, beauty, and bitterness. End and beginning.

It all just blurs together.

Blurs like the tears he pretends are not there falling down the drain, invisible in the stream of water and _gone_ like Steve is.

**Author's Note:**

> This all started because I got a haircut? 
> 
> Thanks for reading!!!


End file.
